dinner party exquisit corpse.

Beautiful hours with beautiful people. Zeus dog licking faces and knocking over wine but making up for it by licking faces. Karina is back (!) in town delighting us with her presence. Yo tight pants wearing nigga! Y'all know about that? And I thought that the divination of a singlular instance is that same perch upon a couch. A singular perch. Maybe it's just me. But it is. I mean - think about it. You have a person, you have a collective YOU you have us and we and all that we are. And you have smoke. It is. I mean, it is what it is. And though it is an accumulation of 95% of how people act, it is a testament of how people act. So Erica closed the door. And faked her breath. And all of them laughed. And that was a collective blog. Maybe Argentina. Maybe poetry. Maybe cheezy crackers. Maybe crack or coke or the singular act of what is snow and an accumulation of that white space. And I'm going for a page. Rifling through collective compilations, we search for some sense of belonging. Awkward glances stifle spontaneous banters. A twist allows for salty bursts of satisfaction. The circle of inspiration brings a conglomeration on a glowing representation of our corporate nation. (HOLY F*CKingshittt) My this, is cave is full of ribbons. they're getting stuck in my eyes, and when the ribbons touch the wet white spheres the blood vessels make